


Fill Me In

by Agapostemon



Series: Cardboard Castles [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Depression Meals, Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff and Angst, Keith (Voltron) Has BPD, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, M/M, POV Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) has PTSD, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Some Cursing, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon
Summary: Keith narrates his sophomore year of college to Shiro over questionable snacks.





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> A Very Original College AU (TM) written by someone who very rarely enjoys AUs. I just felt the world needed to read some late-night Keith and Shiro chats featuring assorted embarrassing snack decisions by Keith. (Most of the embarrassing snacks/Depression Meals featured in this fic are at least semi-autobiographical.)
> 
> Content Warnings: Cursing, brief mentions of self-harm, mental illness is a major theme
> 
> Character Ages for Reference:  
> Shiro - 28  
> Matt - 26  
> Keith - 19  
> Lance - 19  
> Hunk -19  
> Pidge - 17
> 
> I am an anxious bean, please comment gently. Thank you. <3

**Sunday, Sep 4**

Shiro looks up from the book he’s reading as his bedroom door creaks open, revealing his roommate and self-proclaimed younger brother with an entire box of Honey Nut Cheerios in one hand and a plastic spoon in the other. The younger boy had moved in with Shiro, his old mentor, the moment he aged out of the foster system.

“Hey Keith,” greets Shiro, cracking a small smile, “You brought a _spoon_ to eat cereal out of the box with?”

“Shut up,” grumbles Keith, plopping down beside Shiro on his queen-sized bed. He immediately sets to work opening the box of Cheerios and doing exactly as his brother had predicted: eating them directly out of the box with a spoon.

Shiro chuckles and reaches out his right arm, a black and white prosthetic, to ruffle Keith’s hair. Keith responds with a muffled protest but doesn’t stop him.

“So,” says Shiro, his voice still fond but now more serious, “You ready for your first day SAC, tomorrow?”

Keith shrugs.

Shiro knows Keith is less than excited about his transfer to Southern Arizona College. It’s a big step down from the full-ride to the California Institute of Technology he’d had the year prior. Shiro knows that as well as Keith does, but he doesn’t say it. Instead he says, “Sometimes what you want isn’t the same as what you need, Keith. Living at home, going to SAC, going to your DBT group regularly… maybe right now that’s what you need. And that’s okay. Taking care of yourself is as much of an accomplishment as graduating from a prestigious Astrophysics program.”

“I hate it,” growls Keith before sullenly shoving another spoonful of Cheerios in his mouth.

Shiro smiles sadly, “I know, Keith. But sometimes we have to make the best of what we’ve got.”

Keith sighs and sets aside his box of cereal, leaning his head against the wall behind him. After a moment, he speaks up, “I can’t believe I failed Calculus. Like, intro level Calculus. The prerequisite to all things Astrophysics. The subject I aced in high school.”

Shiro thinks back to Keith’s complete breakdown the year prior, “I believe it.”

“Hey!” Keith protests, “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am,” says Shiro, “But you and I both know that locking yourself in your room for days on end is not a good strategy for passing classes.”

“Point taken,” grumbles Keith.

“Nor is smashing glass beakers while you’re already on disciplinary probation…”

“Okay okay, you made your point!” Keith barks, face red.

Shiro puts a steady hand on Keith’s shoulder, “Listen, Keith. You screwed up last year. You isolated yourself. You stopped going to therapy. You stopped calling me. But this year is a fresh start. You have a chance to do things right.”

“I guess…” Keith sighs.

“I know,” Shiro assures, “Now get to bed, you have class at 9am.”

“Fine,” Keith grumbles, but before he goes he leans over and wraps his arms around his brother, “Thanks Shiro. You always know what to say.”

Shiro leans into the hug. “You’ve got this, Keith,” he gives the 19-year-old’s back a couple strong pats, “And I’ve got your back.”

  


  


**Monday, Sep 5**

Shiro perks up at the familiar click of his doorknob. He closes his laptop as Keith enters and asks, “How was your first day of school?”

“Not bad,” shrugs Keith, unwrapping a package of mochi ice cream and offering one to Shiro before popping one (whole) into his own mouth.

“What flavor?” Shiro asks.

“Green tea,” answers Keith after swallowing his own, grimacing at the ice cream headache he’s given himself.

Shiro takes one and nibbles at it before inquiring further about his brother’s day, “Did Calculus go okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Keith says, “It was just syllabus day, so we didn’t get far. There’s this one really loud guy in my class, though. He was kind of distracting.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Shiro responds, “Just remember not to let him get to you. Do you remember the mindfulness techniques you learned in—”

“I can handle this, Shiro,” interrupts Keith through gritted teeth.

“Alright, alright,” Shiro concedes, “I trust you.”

Keith visibly relaxes and takes a bite of another mochi ice cream.

“Decided not to eat this one whole?” Shiro chuckles.

“Don’t laugh at my mistakes!” retorts Keith, though he’s clearly on the verge of laughing as well.

  


  


**Thursday, Sep 15**

“Ugh!” Keith swings open Shiro’s door and throws himself onto his brother’s bed with a bag of hot Cheetos in hand, “You’ll never believe who I ran into in the library, today.”

Shiro spins around in his desk chair, cocking an eyebrow, “It’s not the infamous loud kid you’ve been complaining about every Monday, Wednesday and Friday since the semester started, is it?”

“How did you guess that?” Keith narrows his eyes.

“Keith, you talk about him constantly,” laughs Shiro.

“I do not,” retorts Keith, “Only when he annoys me.”

“Which is constantly,” Shiro persists.

“Whatever,” says Keith, “Anyways, apparently his name is Lance. He came over and introduced himself to me. Asked if I wanted to study together.”

“And did you?” Shiro inquires.

“No, of course not!” Keith looks gravely offended, “The guy flirted with a librarian for like five whole minutes. I’ve never been so secondhand embarrassed in my entire life.”

  


  


**Tuesday, Sep 27**

Keith lets himself in and flops down on Shiro’s bed, revealing a literal fistful of snack cakes.

“You gonna eat all of those?” asks Shiro, amused.

“Yes,” huffs Keith, “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I had DBT, individual therapy and a 3-hour long chemistry lab all in rapid succession this afternoon.”

“So you’re eating… Zebra cakes,” Shiro says.

“Yes,” confirms Keith, taking a bite.

“Nutritious,” says Shiro, dripping with sarcasm, “So scheduling misfortunes aside, how was therapy?”

“Boring and unproductive,” Keith says, taking another bite.

“Is that so?” Shiro hums, “Did your therapist have anything new to say?”

“She said I need a social life,” Keith shrugs dismissively.

“And…?” Shiro prompts.

Keith looks over at him, “Isn’t that what I’m doing right now? Socializing?”

Shiro lets out a bark of laughter, “I think she means a social life _outside_ of your brother who you live with.”

“Why?” asks Keith, “It’s not like I’m locking myself in my room for days on end like last year. Why does it matter who I’m spending time with, as long as I’m spending time with someone?”

Shiro shakes his head, “Listen, can you do me a favor?”

Keith squints, “What kind of a favor?”

“Can you text Pidge and ask her if she’d like to hang out sometime? After all, you two do go to the same school, now,” Shiro says.

Pidge is a good kid. Shiro knows her older brother from the Airforce, and he knows she and Keith have gotten along famously the few times they’d hung out. The trick is getting them to hang out in the first place, considering Pidge is almost as much of a hermit as Keith. (Almost, but not quite.)

Keith sighs, “I guess.”

“Do you have her number?” asks Shiro.

“Wait, you mean _now_?” Keith sputters.

“Yes, Keith,” Shiro stares down his brother, “I mean now.”

“Fine,” Keith pulls out his phone and starts tapping at the screen, “Fine. There, I texted her.”

The corner of Shiro’s mouth ticks up in a smile, “Good.”

Keith tosses an empty wrapper towards the trash can. It comes unballed halfway to its destination and floats downwards like a feather, landing at the foot of the bed. “I’ll clean that up later,” he says apologetically, then turns to Shiro, “Hey, I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s personal.”

“That’s fine.”

“I know you uh…” Keith pauses, “you and Pidge’s brother were in the Airforce. I know that’s how you lost your arm, but you never talk about what… happened.”

“Oh, that,” Shiro says calmly. Suddenly he feels like he’s surrounded by invisible cotton balls.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it…” Keith’s voice sounds distant, like he’s talking though glass.

“No, it’s fine,” says Shiro, running his left hand down his face and taking a deep breath, “I was a pilot, but I worked more closely with the engineers than with combat. I think you knew that already.”

Keith nods. The motion seems blurry.

Shiro blinks a couple times, “So I had this… false sense of invincibility, I suppose. Maybe we all did. Anyways, our flight went down.”

Keith nods again, even blurrier than before.

“Matt and I were the only ones who got out alive. Well, minus one arm,” Shiro lets out a jarring bark of laugher.

Keith keeps watching his face, like he’s expecting more.

“There’s not much else to say,” says Shiro.

Without warning, Keith grunts and pulls his brother into a tight hug. Shiro sits motionless for a moment, then fumbles to return the gesture. His body doesn’t feel real. None of this feels real.

Keith’s phone buzzes. They both jump. Everything in the room seems to crash back into focus all at once. It’s a dizzying sensation.

“Who’s that?” Shiro asks as Keith reads his screen.

“Oh, uh…” Keith says, “It’s Pidge.”

“And…?”

“She… wants me to go to game night with her and her roommates this Saturday?” he scrunches up his nose.

A genuine grin spreads across Shiro’s face, tugging at the scar across his nose, “And are you going?”

Keith holds his phone out so his brother, who silently reads Keith’s reply:

> _(9:17pm) Yeah, sure I guess. It’ll make my brother happy. What’s your address?_

Shiro nods in approval, “I’m proud of you, Keith.”


	2. October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith narrates his sophomore year of college to Shiro over questionable snacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Cursing, general aggression

**Sunday, Oct 2**

It’s almost 1am by the time Keith trudges in through the front door of the apartment he shares with Shiro. He immediately spots his brother on the couch and waves silently as he kicks the door closed.

“You’re back late,” says Shiro with a smile, shutting his laptop.

“Yeah,” responds Keith, taking one last swig of his canned coffee before crushing the can with his hands and tossing it expertly into the nearest waste basket.

“Did you have a good time at Pidge’s?”

Keith sighs audibly and makes his way over to the couch, slumping down beside Shiro.

“Well…?” Shiro prompts.

“You’ll never guess,” Keith hisses, “who Pidge _lives with_.”

Shiro’s smile widens into a grin, “Is it the loud kid? Lance?”

“ _YES_!” roars Keith, throwing his head back against the back of the couch in apparent anguish. Then he whips his head around to face Shiro, “Wait, how did you guess that?”

“I’m psychic,” Shiro’s eyes twinkle.

Keith groans, tangling his hands in his shaggy hair in frustration.

Shiro nudges him with an elbow, “So, how was game night?”

“A disaster!” Keith declares, “Apparently Lance has declared me his _own personal rival_. What the hell? He spent his whole night trying to bankrupt _me specifically_ in Pokémon Monopoly!”

“Well, did he succeed?” Shiro asks.

“Nah,” Keith cracks a cocky grin, “I got Nidoking and Nidoqueen and kicked his _ass_.”

Shiro playfully punches his shoulder, “So then what are you complaining about?”

 

 

**Friday, Oct 7**

Shiro spins in his desk chair as Keith nudges his way into his room, cold pizza in hand. He sits cross-legged on the bed.

“Is that the pizza we ordered three days ago?” Shiro asks, laughter in his voice.

Keith takes a sheepish bite, “…yes.”

“How do you still have leftovers?”

“Because I’m never home to eat!” Keith exclaims through a mouthful of pineapple and jalapeño pizza.

“Where do you even go during the day?” Shiro asks, “You’re only taking 12 credit hours this semester, and I know you’re not in any clubs or organizations.”

“The gym, the library, _therapy_ …” Keith’s phone buzzes as he hisses the last word, “Who the hell…?”

“Who is it?” inquires Shiro as Keith squints at his screen.

Keith’s brow furrows, “Pidge wants to know if I wanna come to game night again.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You should go!” Shiro encourages, “Get out and do something more fun than studying and working out.”

“With _Lance_?” Keith scowls.

Shiro gives him a knowing smile, “And Pidge. And… what’s their other roommate’s name?”

“Hunk.”

“And Hunk. Now go on, text her back,” Shiro gestures at Keith’s phone.

Keith sets his jaw but picks his phone back up and starts typing. After a moment, he holds out his phone to Shiro:

> _(7:55pm) Sure, see you tomorrow._

Shiro smiles and nods in approval.

Keith glowers.

 

 

**Sunday, Oct 9**

Shiro wakes up to a loud _thud_ coming from the living room. He blearily identifies it as the front door slamming and hurries to get out of bed.

He meets Keith halfway down the hallway. The younger boy’s face is red with rage, his teeth gritting together and his hands balled up in fists.

“What happened?” Shiro asks groggily.

“Tell me what’s funnier,” says Keith, his eyes fiery and devoid of all humor, “Quiche: The Musical or Getting Married, Having a Few Kids, Buying Some Stuff, Retiring to Florida and Dying: The Musical.”

Shiro isn’t entirely sure how Keith kept a straight face while saying that, but he answers cautiously, “Uh, quiche? The other one’s pretty… wordy.”

“Traitor!” shouts Keith, swinging a very real and not at all affectionate punch in his brother’s direction.

Shiro catches his fist in midair with his right hand, “Whoa whoa whoa. Keith, what are you talking about? What happened?”

“Hunk picked Lance’s card!” Keith growls, ripping his hand out of Shiro’s, “We were tied. Hunk chose Lance’s card. It wasn’t even funny! How is quiche funny!?”

“Keith,” Shiro says steadily, “You’re going to need to back up and give me some context.”

“They’re conspiring against me!” yells Keith, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes.

“Keith,” Shiro puts a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I need you to take a deep breath.”

Keith sucks air in through his teeth, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“In through your mouth, out through your nose,” Shiro takes a deep breath of his own, by way of demonstration… but also to calm his own pounding heart.

Keith repeats Shiro’s breathing technique exactly once before screaming, “Fuck mindfulness!” and ripping himself away from his brother.

Shiro takes another deep breath, desperately pushing down his own anger and fear. After a few breaths, he speaks in a measured voice, “Okay, well… I’ll be in my room whenever you’re ready to talk.”

He retreats to his bedroom and sits down on his bed, dropping his face into his hands and letting out a ragged breath. He flinches as Keith’s door slams down the hall.

\---------------

Shiro is still wide awake when Keith lets himself in an hour later, his face splotchy and apologetic.

“Sorry about…” Keith makes a vague hand gesture and averts his eyes. He has a death grip on an unopened package of chili mangoes, suggesting he plans to stay for a while.

Shiro gives a strained smile and pats the bed, inviting his brother to sit with him, “Forgiven.”

Keith climbs into bed and sets to work opening his snack. Once open, he offers one to Shiro without making eye contact.

Shiro takes the mango and murmurs his thanks.

Keith nibbles pensively on a mango of his own. Shiro notices he’s shaking slightly.

They sit and eat in silence for a bit before Shiro reaches out and pulls Keith into a haphazard sideways hug. He half expects Keith to object, but instead he just buries his face in Shiro’s shoulder.

“What was all that about? Earlier tonight?” asks Shiro, his voice gentle.

“We were playing Cards Against Humanity,” Keith grumbles, “Lance won.”

Shiro shakes his head, “All that over losing a game?”

“He…” Keith is visibly flustered, “H-he made a big deal about it.”

“Keith,” Shiro says, “Your emotions are your own. Just because someone else makes a big deal of something doesn’t mean you—”

“Stop,” Keith says, his voice cracking. It sounds more like a plea than an order. He looks up at Shiro, “Talk to me like I’m your brother. You’re not my therapist.”

Shiro frowns and pulls his brother’s head into a brief and extraordinarily awkward hug. “I’m sorry,” he lets out a defeated sigh, “Keith, I don’t know what else to say. I’m not trying to be your therapist, Ijust… All I can do is tell you how I keep myself alive every day.”

“Oh…” Keith croaks. They drop back into silence for several minutes. Keith reaches up to his shoulder and runs his fingers thoughtfully over the black and white plastic of Shiro’s hand.

Finally, Keith speaks in a hoarse whisper, “I’m sorry, Shiro.”

Shiro squeezes his shoulders, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, “We all have our moments.”

“I… I should get to bed,” mumbles Keith.

“You most certainly should,” agrees Shiro, glancing at the clock, “It’s almost 4am.”

 

 

**Thursday, Oct 11**

Keith trudges into Shiro’s room, phone in hand and candy cane dangling from his mouth. He’s so focused on his screen that Shiro is astonished he managed to open the door instead of running into it.

Shiro squints at the candy cane, “Where did you even _get_ that?”

Keith ignores him for a moment, finishing his text, then lowers his phone and pulls the candy cane (now sharpened to a point) out or his mouth, “What, this?”

“Yes, that,” Shiro says, both amused and intrigued, “It’s October.”

Keith shrugs, “Found it in my room.”

“Keith, we don’t even celebrate Christmas…”

“My last foster family did,” Keith says.

Shiro snorts, “You mean to tell me you brought at least one candy cane with you when you moved in, but you didn’t have a change of pants?”

“That seems about right,” Keith says, popping the sharp tip of the candy cane back into his mouth.

After a beat of silence, Shiro asks, “So, who were you texting?”

“Oh,” Keith pulls the candy cane back out and brandishes it as he speaks, “Pidge was just asking if I wanted to join her and her roommates’ group costume this Halloween.”

Shiro’s face lights up, “What’s the costume?”

“A very hodge-podge Avatar: The Last Airbender entourage,” Keith says, clearly trying very hard to sound disinterested, “Pidge and Lance wanted to be Toph and Sokka, so they decided to rope Hunk and me into being… Iroh and Zuko?”

Shiro snickers.

“What?” Keith snaps.

“Nothing,” Shiro chuckles, “You’re just... Pidge is right, you’re totally Zuko.”

Keith huffs.

“So are you gonna do it?” Shiro asks.

“I’m…” Keith sets his jaw, “I’m thinking about it.”

“Good,” Shiro approves, “I think you should do it.”

Keith makes a displeased sound and bites the point off his candy cane before strolling out of the room with his eyes back on his phone.

 

 

**Monday, Oct 31**

Shiro can’t help but beam when Keith strolls into his room wearing a loose, layered outfit in assorted shades of red, “Is this the Zuko costume you’ve been laboring over all month?”

Keith grunts and fidgets with the tiny ponytail his hair is pulled into.

“It looks great,” says Shiro, “You did a great job.”

Keith shrugs, “I hardly did anything. Lance designed, Hunk made sure all the measurements were right, Pidge programmed the sewing machine to do shit I didn’t think a sewing machine was capable of... and I just did odd-jobs the whole time. I’m not sure why they even wanted me there, honestly.”

“But you were there every Saturday to help your friends,” Shiro says with a proud smile, “That’s important.”

“I guess,” Keith concedes, “Anyways, I need to put my face paint on before they come pick me up. Could you uh… help me?”

“Of course,” says Shiro.

Keith produces a box of face paints and Shiro ushers him onto the bed, where they plop down across from each other.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to close your eyes,” Shiro instructs, “No, not like that. Close them as lightly as you can. There, that’s it.” He opens the paints and does a bit of mixing before dipping the brush in and painting the first stroke just below Keith’s right eye.

Keith shivers.

“It’s okay, you’ll get used to it,” says Shiro, painting a few more strokes, “So, what do you and your friends plan on doing tonight once you’re all costumed up? I assume you have plans after putting so much work into this.”

“We’re uh…” Keith makes a face, “We’re trick-or-treating, I guess?”

Shiro laughs, “I should have figured. Pidge lives for trick-or-treating. It’s the only night of the year she actually likes being mistaken for a kid.”

Keith chuckles in spite of himself, “That sounds about right.”

“Okay, now back to relaxing your face,” Shiro reminds Keith, “I just have a little more to go and then your scar will be complete.”


	3. November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith narrates his sophomore year of college to Shiro over questionable snacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter, but I promise things will pick back up in the next one!

**Tuesday, Nov 1**

Shiro walks into the kitchen to find Keith eating his way through a pile of fun-sized candy bars. He chuckles, “Good morning, Keith.”

Keith grunts and waves.

“Breakfast of champions, eh?” Shiro comments, “I take it trick-or-treating was a success?”

“Eh, it was okay,” Keith says through a mouthful of Milky Way, “It would’ve been better if Lance hadn’t made it into some stupid competition over who could get the most candy.” It’s subtle, but Shiro catches a hint of a smile on his brother’s face.

Shiro pours himself a bowl of granola and sits down across from Keith, “Did you win?”

“I dunno who won. We kind of got distracted when we got separated from Pidge and Hunk,” Keith says.

“We as in you and the infamous Lance?” Shiro’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah,” Keith says, “And we couldn’t get ahold of Pidge and Hunk for the longest time, so we just… I dunno, we waited on a little hill near where we got stranded. Lance spent the whole time chattering about his favorite constellations.” His scowl can’t hide the pinkish tint to his cheeks.

“Sounds like you had a nice evening,” Shiro smiles.

“What? No! I got stranded with Lance! Were you even listening?” Keith defends, his blush deepening.

Shiro just laughs and stands up to rinse his bowl out.

 

 

**Tuesday, Nov 8**

Shiro turns around to check on Keith, who has been diligently working on homework on his bed for the past two hours. The bed is littered with scratch paper and discarded Fruit Gushers wrappers, and Keith is intensely focused on his phone screen. The smile on his face indicates that his homework has been momentarily forgotten.

“Who’re you texting?” asks Shiro with a knowing smile.

“Just… homework,” says Keith, his brow furrowing.

“You’re texting your homework?” Shiro snarks.

Keith rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

“Okay, so who’re you texting about homework?” presses Shiro.

“No one important,” Keith says, returning his focus to the learning module on his laptop screen.

Shiro cracks a grin and dives for Keith’s phone.

“Hey!” Keith protests, grabbing futilely for his phone.

“Let’s see, recent texts…” Shiro says as he scrolls.

“This is an invasion of my privacy!” exclaims Keith, grappling with his brother to get his phone back.

“Ah, Lance!” Shiro announces, holding Keith back with his right hand and scrolling with his left, “Though I’m not seeing any mentions of calc—”

“That is _mine_!” Keith grunts as he finally snatches his phone back.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with texting your friends,” Shiro points out.

“He’s not my friend,” Keith insists.

“Uh-huh,” Shiro responds, skeptical.

 

 

**Sunday, Nov 13**

Shiro yawns and stretches before groggily making his way out to the kitchen, where he finds Keith shoveling leftover fried rice into his mouth. Cold. Directly out of the takeout box.

“Oh, hey Keith,” Shiro greets, choosing to ignore his brother’s questionable choice in breakfast foods, “I didn’t hear you come home last night.”

“Oh, I just got home,” Keith says, setting down his chopsticks by shoving them into his rice, “We have a big calculus exam coming up, so Lance and I stayed up late studying after we finished playing Clue. It got late, so I crashed on the couch.”

Shiro smiles, “I’m glad you’re getting along better with Lance,”

“I dunno if I’d call it getting along,” defends Keith, picking his chopsticks back up, “More of… a bet. If I score higher than him on the next exam, he owes me $20.”

“Ah,” Shiro smirks, “Yes, I can see how _helping him study_ could definitely improve your chances of winning your bet. Excellent strategy.”

Keith huffs indignantly into his rice.

 

 

**Sunday, Nov 27**

Keith clicks open the door to Shiro’s room and strolls in with a mysterious Tupperware full of god-knows-what. He sits down on the bed beside his brother and takes a bite. Whatever he’s eating, it smells delicious. Shiro notes that Keith actually took the time to microwave it.

“What’re you eating?” asks Shiro, looking up from his laptop.

“Leftovers from Thanksgiving at Pidge’s,” Keith says, “We cooked dinner together instead of game night yesterday. Hunk made like half a dozen sides and desserts, and Lance made this… stuffed lamb shoulder thing. He said it’s a modified version of something his mom taught him to cook. The original was pork, but he switched it to lamb for Pidge.” A faint blush spreads across his cheeks. He may be eating out of a Tupperware with a plastic fork, but Shiro can tell he’s treasuring every bite he takes.

Shiro smiles, “Well, it certainly smells delicious. Did you and Pidge cook anything?”

Keith looks sheepish, “Yeah, uh… charcoal.”

Shiro snorts with laughter and pats his brother’s back, “Well, I’m proud of you for trying.”

“Thanks?”


	4. December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith narrates his sophomore year of college to Shiro over questionable snacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Brief mention of self-harm

**Sunday, Dec 4**

Shiro is drinking coffee at the kitchen table when Keith stumbles groggily down the hall to join him.

“Morning,” grumbles Keith, flinging open the freezer.

“Morning, Keith,” greets Shiro, “How’d you sleep? You got back pretty late last night.”

“Can we not talk about last night?” Keith groans, closing the freezer empty-handed and pulling open the refrigerator instead.

Shiro raises an eyebrow, “Well, now you’ve piqued my interest.”

Keith grunts and closes the fridge, making his way over to the pantry instead.

“So, what happened last night that we’re not talking about?” asks Shiro.

“Nothing,” says Keith, his cheeks growing pink. He pulls out a box of granola, eats a handful, makes a face, and returns it to the pantry before making his way back over to the freezer.

“Well, what game did you play? It was game night, right?” Shiro asks innocently.

“Sorry,” Keith grunts and he rummages through the freezer.

“What?”

“Like… the game. We played Sorry,” Keith clarifies gruffly.

“Well, that sounds pretty harmless and not at all embarrassing,” says Shiro.

Keith lets out a bitter laugh as he slams the freezer door closed.

“Or perhaps I’m mistaken,” says Shiro, smiling into his coffee.

“You have _no idea_ ,” Keith says as he swings open the fridge again.

“Well, I would if you told me,” Shiro points out.

“ _Fine_ ,” Keith growls. He slams the fridge, grabs a banana off the counter and sits down across from Shiro.

“So, tell me about last night,” says Shiro, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Okay, so,” Keith begins, picking at the peel of his banana, “Lance was the one who suggested we play Sorry, but this is Lance we’re talking about, so… somehow it turned into Truth or Dare Sorry?”

Shiro snorts, “How does that even work?”

“Apparently any time you try to bump someone’s piece back to start, the game turns into Truth or Dare. If you don’t answer the truth or complete the dare, you lose your turn and they stay where they’re at.”

“Hm,” Shiro hums, “an interesting premise.”

“Yeah,” Keith says sourly, “Interesting.”

“Did you get any interesting truths or dares thrown your way?” Shiro asks.

“I uh…” Keith blushes furiously, “I had to kiss someone.”

“Ohhhh,” Shiro smiles, “Who?”

“Lance,” Keith grunts under his breath.

Shiro cocks an eyebrow, “And did you?”

“Well,” Keith’s face is on fire, “Well, yeah, I had to win!”

Shiro’s smile spreads into a grin, “And did you win?”

“Of course I did!” Keith says defensively, “I wouldn’t’ve… I wouldn’t’ve kissed _Lance_ if I didn’t think I would win!”

Shiro looks his brother in the eye, “You wouldn’t, eh?

“Of course not,” Keith says. His demeanor is as shy as it is surly. He takes a bite of his banana, “It’s not like I like him or anything.”

“Alright,” says Shiro, knowing when it’s time to drop the subject.

Keith stands up, “D’you want the rest of my banana?”

“You took one bite,” says Shiro.

“I’m not hungry,” Keith sets his banana down in front of Shiro and walks off.

 

 

**Thursday, Dec 15**

Keith looks particularly sullen as he trudges into Shiro’s room with a paper bowl full of rice. As soon as he makes his way over to the bed, he hunches over his bowl and scowls.

“Did you want me to make you an egg to go with that?” asks Shiro, pointing at Keith’s rice, which is topped with an alarming amount of pickled ginger and nothing else.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Keith says in a quiet monotone, “I already started eating.”

“You okay, buddy?” asks Shiro, concerned.

Keith shrugs, then grunts in frustration as a clump of rice falls from his chopsticks. He retaliates by picking up an even bigger clump of rice and shoving it roughly into his mouth. Even his chewing is angry.

“You sure?” Shiro prods.

Keith sighs heavily and stares intently down at his dinner, “Y’know that thing I said a couple weeks ago?”

“Not really, no,” Shiro replies, “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“The thing about Lance!” Keith snipes, accidentally launching some rice into the air.

“That he’s beating you in calculus? That he learned to cook from him his mom? That you’re definitely not crushing on him?” Shiro says, “Which thing are we talking about, here?”

“The last one!” Keith barks into his rice, his face as red as a tomato.

“That you’re definitely not crushing on him?” repeats Shiro with a sly smile.

“Yes,” growls Keith, his face practically on fire, “that one.”

“What about it?” asks Shiro, feigning ignorance.

“It…” Keith stammers, his eyes still locked on his rice, “I-it might not have been… entirely true…”

“No, _really_?” Shiro cackles.

Keith sputters, setting aside his rice and looking up at his brother in dismay, “Wait, you knew?”

“I’m psychic, remember?” Shiro taps his head to emphasize his point.

“But… wh—how? Wh— _I_ didn’t even… _Shiro_!”

Shiro gives Keith his best knowing smile, “So, how did you figure it out?”

“I, uh…” Keith looks like he’s in agony, “I was trying to get his attention. We were outside the library and it was time to study for our calculus exam, but he was too busy flirting with some girl so he didn’t… and I got… and then I…”

“Slow down,” Shiro coaxes, “It’s okay, you can say it.”

“…I might have punched him.”

“Keith!” Shiro scolds.

“Not hard!” Keith defends, “I just punched him from behind and knocked the wind out of him. He was fine. He yelled at me and then laughed. It was fine.”

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, “You actually punched him?”

“H-he was flirting and we had to go and I got… I got…” Keith looks away, “…jealous. I got jealous.”

Shiro gets up from his desk chair and takes a seat beside Keith on the bed, looking his brother in the eye. “Listen, Keith. You need to work on that anger of yours,” he sighs, “but I’m proud of you for being honest with yourself.”

Keith doesn’t respond, just continues staring at some dust bunny in the corner of the room.

“Com’ere,” Shiro says, scooting closer and wrapping Keith in a hug.

Keith presses his nose into Shiro’s shoulder and doesn’t say anything.

 

 

**Tuesday, Dec 20**

Keith practically smashes his way into his brother’s room, laptop in hand, “Shiro, I got my grades back!”

“How’d you do?” asks Shiro, beaming up at his brother from his desk. He can already tell it’s good news.

Keith doesn’t even bother sitting down. He just grins and spins his laptop around for Shiro to see, “All As! 3.93 GPA.”

“Congratulations!” Shiro says, standing up and plucking the laptop from Keith’s hands so he can pull him into a tight hug, “You did good.”

“Thanks,” Keith mumbles into Shiro’s shoulder. This is the most genuinely happy Shiro has seen his brother in months.

“So, that’s it for this semester?” says Shiro, releasing his embrace but keeping his hands on Keith’s shoulders for a moment longer, “It’s winter break, now, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith nods.

“Do you have any plans for your break?” asks Shiro, letting go of Keith’s shoulders and beckoning for him to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

“Mmm, not really,” Keith shrugs, taking a seat next to his brother, “Spend more time at the gym, I guess?”

“Any plans with friends?” Shiro inquires.

Keith’s face falls a bit, “Nah. Lance and Hunk are going home to visit their families out of state.”

Shiro frowns, “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Keith says, setting his jaw.

“You sure?” Shiro reaches out a hand to set on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” snaps Keith, brushing away his hand and stomping out of the room.

Shiro stares after him and sighs.

 

**Sunday, Dec 25**

 

> _Shiro (12:33pm): Happy Hanukkah!_
> 
> **Matt (12:33pm): happy nothing!**
> 
> _Shiro (12:33pm): That sounds about right._
> 
> _Shiro (12:34pm): Speaking of which, it sounds like Keith is having a meltdown in the other room. If I disappear, he either broke something important or came to me for help._
> 
> **Matt (12:34pm): oh boy**
> 
> _Shiro (12:34pm): I’m hoping for the latter._
> 
> **Matt (12:35pm): happy holidays to you??**
> 
> _Shiro (12:35pm): Lance is out of town for the holidays, and Keith is handling it about as well as expected. Poor kid is a burning ball of unaddressed feelings._
> 
> **Matt (12:36pm): sounds like someone else i know ;)**
> 
> _Shiro (12:36pm): I resent that remark._
> 
> _Shiro (12:37pm): Oh, here he comes. Talk to you later!_

Keith’s face is red and splotchy when he enters the room, though he tries his best to hide it by throwing himself face-first onto Shiro’s bed.

“What’s wrong?” asks Shiro, reaching over to rub his brother’s back, “And don’t say nothing.”

“He’s ignoring me,” Keith mumbles into Shiro’s pillow.

“Keith,” Shiro says steadily, “It’s Christmas. He has a big family. He’s probably busy.”

“He’s been ignoring me since _Friday_!” Keith retorts.

“He probably spent Christmas Eve with his family,” Shiro assures him, gripping his shoulder, “You said his mom taught him to cook, right? In a lot of families, cooking together on the holidays is a big family affair.”

“He hates me,” Keith huffs, “He didn’t even answer my question before he disappeared.”

“What were you two talking about?” Shiro inquires gently.

“Doesn’t matter,” Keith says sullenly, “He hates me and the feeling is mutual.”

“You know that’s not true,” says Shiro, “C’mon, sit up and look at me.” He nudges Keith upright. The younger boy’s eyes are red and his knuckles are scraped. There are scratches on his face that look like they’re from his own fingernails. “What’s gotten into you?” Shiro whispers.

Keith just sets his jaw and looks at Shiro out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen,” says Shiro, gently but decisively, “You’re gonna text Pidge and tell her we’re on our way. We’re going to the Chinese buffet. No questions, no complaints.”

“Why?” asks Keith through gritted teeth.

“No questions, no complaints,” says Shiro simply, “You can either text Pidge yourself or I can text Matt and bring him along too.”

“Augh! Fine,” Keith sighs and pulls out his phone.

\---------------

“So, why are we here again?” asks Keith as he sits down with a plate full of the spiciest things he could find. He’s regained his composure, but his demeanor is still sulky.

“It’s an age-old Shirogane-Holt tradition,” states Pidge, sipping her ginger ale as she waits for the grill to finish her custom stir-fry, “Personal crises and the 25th of December are both cause for a trip to Ye Olde Chinese Buffet.” Pidge gestures around at the restaurant. They’re practically the only people there.

“And since this is both of those things, it seemed like the appropriate place to go,” explains Shiro, popping a piece of sushi into his mouth.

“Do you really trust buffet sushi?” scoffs Keith.

“Not in the least,” says Shiro, “but I’ve defied death before, so I might as well eat subpar sushi.”

Pidge quietly gets up to retrieve her food as they talk.

Keith rolls his eyes at Shiro’s plate of mostly sushi, “We could’ve just gone to a nice sushi bar.”

“No questions, no complaints. Remember?” says Shiro. “Besides, I got things other than sushi,” he waves around his chicken on a stick and takes a bite.

Keith sighs and takes a bite of his General Tso’s chicken, his face resting against the hand he’s not eating with. He grumbles something about it not being spicy enough.

“Miss me?” says Pidge as she returns to her seat, “So let’s get down to business. What personal crisis brings us here today?”

Keith groans and stuffs his mouth full of rice and hunan beef so he won’t have to speak.

“Keith was just wondering if you’d heard from Lance in the past couple days,” explains Shiro simply, watching as his brother’s face turns bright red.

“Of course not,” says Pidge, twirling her noodles around her fork, “His family takes Christmas _really_ seriously. He’ll probably be AWOL until tomorrow.”

“See?” Shiro nudges his brother’s foot under the table, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about, eh?” Pidge waggles her eyebrows, “Was something worrying you, Keith?”

“No,” Keith denies.

“That’s a lie,” says Shiro.

Keith drops his chopsticks and buries his face in his hands with a roar of frustration.

“Keith, literally the entire world knows you have a thing for Lance, so can we just skip the part where you spend half an hour vehemently denying it?” Pidge says with a smirk.

“I hate every single one of you,” Keith growls, voice muffled by his hands.

“There are only two of us here,” Pidge points out smugly.

“Matt too,” Keith says.

“What does Matt have to do with this?” asks Shiro innocently.

“I don’t know, but I know he’s involved somehow!” insists Keith.

“That’s… probably a fair assessment,” admits Pidge with a shrug.

“You’re all terrible,” Keith grumbles, but when he lowers his hands there’s a tiny grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth or Dare Sorry is an actual game I have actually played. _Several_ times. My coworkers at a past job came up with it because our board game selection at work was abysmal and we wanted to spice things up.


	5. January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith narrates his sophomore year of college to Shiro over questionable snacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Brief mention of self-harm, medication-talk, a bit of cursing
> 
> This chapter ended up a lot longer and a lot more intense than I anticipated?? Not that that's a bad thing. But it sure is a thing.

**Sunday, Jan 8**

“Hey Keith,” greets Shiro as his brother enters the room with a tin of sardines and a plastic fork, “You ready for the spring semester to start?”

“Yep,” says Keith, peeling the top off his sardines, “Lance and I have physics together. He may have beat me by 1% in Calculus, but he’s not gonna beat me twice.”

Shiro grins, “Just don’t make this a repeat of last year.”

“I won’t,” Keith assures him, popping a sardine in his mouth.

“I trust you,” says Shiro, reaching out to ruffle his hair, “You did good last semester. Just… promise you’ll keep up with your friends and keep going to therapy, okay?”

“I know, I know,” Keith says, radiating confidence.

Shiro tries to hide the worry from his face, “Okay. Well, don’t be afraid to come to me if you need anything.”

 

 

**Friday, Jan 20**

Unfortunately, Shiro’s anxieties prove to be woefully accurate in very short order. Class had only been in session for a couple weeks, but he can already see Keith slipping. Fast.

The younger boy is, to be quite frank, a hot mess by the time he hobbles into Shiro’s room late Friday night. He has bags under his eyes and looks like he hasn’t combed his hair in a few days. He has an energy drink in hand but still manages to look like he’s on the verge of collapse as he seats himself beside Shiro and opens up his laptop.

“Keith?” says Shiro softly, more than a little concerned.

“Mm?” grunts Keith, gaze blearily locked on what appears to be an online physics textbook.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I slept a few hours last night,” Keith mumbles, eyes flicking across the screen. Shiro sincerely doubts his brother is absorbing any of what he’s reading, so he doesn’t feel too bad about interrupting his studies.

“How many?” Shiro presses.

“Like… three.”

“Keith, you know that’s not enough.”

Keith sips his energy drink and continues to focus groggily on his screen.

“You’re obviously exhausted,” Shiro points out, “I’m not sure what you’re trying to accomplish by staying up, but it’s not working.”

Keith turns and glares at his brother, “I know what I need to do, okay? I know my limits.”

Shiro reaches over and plucks at the sleeve of Keith’s t-shirt, just enough the reveal the fresh red gashes beneath, “You’re hurting yourself again.”

Keith doesn’t respond immediately. He just turns back to his computer to reread the same paragraph for what has to be the tenth time. After a moment, though, he speaks quietly, “I can’t afford to get distracted.”

“Distracted by what?” Shiro asks.

“Unattainable goals,” Keith replies cryptically.

“If you keep this up, _passing your classes_ is gonna be an unattainable goal,” says Shiro sternly.

Keith sighs, his face softening a bit, “So what do I do?”

“For now?” says Shiro, “You sleep.”

“I’m not tired enough,” insists Keith.

“Not tired enough for what, Keith? You look tired enough to drop dead at any moment.”

“If I try to go to sleep now, I’ll just… think,” Keith says.

“Think about what?” asks Shiro. After a moment of thought, he adds in a near-whisper, “Think about Lance?”

Keith looks pointedly away but gives a small nod.

“Is Lance the unattainable goal?”

Another small nod.

Shiro sighs, “I’m not sure that goal is as unattainable as you think it is.”

“How would you know?” snaps Keith suddenly, “You’ve never even met him!” His posture is angry but there are tears welling in his eyes.

“How about we talk about this in the morning,” suggests Shiro, “after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

Keith opens his mouth to protest, but he’s cut off by a yawn. A tear breaks loose and trickles down his cheek. His hand shoots up to wipe it away, but not before Shiro notices.

“Would you like one of my anxiety pills?” asks Shiro, “It might help relax you for the night.”

Keith shrugs, which Shiro takes as a reluctant yes. He reaches for his bottle of Klonopin and hands a pill over to his brother. Keith swallows it and chases it with a gulp of energy drink.

“You can even sleep in here, if you want,” Shiro offers, “I can distract you if you catch yourself thinking unpleasant thoughts.”

“That’s the problem,” Keith mumbles.

“What is?”

“They’re not even unpleasant. Just…” Keith yawns, “distracting…”

“Get some sleep, kiddo,” says Shiro, gently moving his brother’s laptop and half-empty energy drink off the bed, “There will be plenty of time to talk about this later.”

Keith grumbles half a protest before giving up and slumping reluctantly into the bed.

Shiro removes his prosthetic and pulls the covers over himself and Keith. “G’night, Keith,” he says softly, “Love you little bro.”

Keith is silent for so long that Shiro is sure he’s already asleep. But after several minutes, the younger boy shifts around until he’s snuggled up against his brother’s right shoulder, murmuring a sleepy “you too, Shiro” before drifting off to sleep for real.

 

 

**Saturday, Jan 21**

Shiro is awake long before Keith even stirs, but instead of getting out of bed (at the risk of disturbing his brother’s much-needed sleep), he stays put and texts Matt from his bed.

 

> _Shiro (1:01pm): Hey_
> 
> _Shiro (1:03pm): (Sorry if I respond slowly. I can’t put on my arm until someone stops sleeping on the shoulder it attaches to.)_
> 
> **Matt (1:03pm): ooOOOOooo did my man Shiro bring a lady home last night? ;D ;D ;D**
> 
> **Matt (1:04pm): was it alluuuuuraaaa???**
> 
> _Shiro (1:05pm): No! God. Keith crashed in my bed last night. I might have given him a Klonopin. Poor kid’s been sleeping like 3 hours a night since the semester started._
> 
> **Matt (1:05pm): awwwww**
> 
> _Shiro (1:06pm): Was that an “aww cute” aww or an “aww dang, Shiro didn’t bring home a lady” aww?_
> 
> **Matt (1:06pm): aww cute! I wish pidge still crawled into bed with me when she’s having a rough time**
> 
> _Shiro (1:08pm): I mean, I’m pretty sure this is the first time Keith’s ever had a sibling he could crawl into bed with. He has a lot of catching up to do._
> 
> **Matt (1:08pm): fair point**
> 
> _Shiro (1:10pm): Also, Pidge doesn’t even live with you. What’s she gonna do, drive across town to crawl into bed with you?_
> 
> **Matt (1:10pm): also a fair point**
> 
> _Shiro (1:12pm): Anyways, I’m glad Keith is comfortable here. It’s about time he has a place he can call home._
> 
> **Matt (1:12pm): you should do that affectionate hair ruffle thing so I can imagine you being the cutest big bro**
> 
> _Shiro (1:13pm): Not really in the right position? Trying not to wake Keith?_
> 
> **Matt (1:13pm): you’re a disappointment, shirogane**
> 
> _Shiro (1:15pm): There, I smooshed my cheek against the top of his head while he sleeps. Does that work for you?_
> 
> **Matt (1:15pm): awwwwwwww**

Suddenly, Shiro’s back-and-forth with Matt is interrupted by a knock at the door. He tries to ignore it, but the knocking merely intensifies the longer he waits. Finally, he gives up and sets to work extracting himself from under Keith as gently as possible. Keith whines and curls up in Shiro’s absence, but he doesn’t wake.

“Maybe I should’ve given you _half_ a Klonopin, buddy,” whispers Shiro before making his way to the front door.

When he opens the door, he comes eye-to-eye with a tall, lanky kid with tan skin, strikingly blue eyes and an unmistakable grin. Shiro’s never met him before, but he knows this must be Lance. He’s flanked by Pidge, of course, as well as a large, cheerful kid who he assumes to be Hunk.

“Is Keith here?” asks Pidge, hefting a towering stack of books in her arms, “He said he couldn’t make it to game night because he had to study, so we decided to surprise him by coming over and studying with him.

“The brilliant and charismatic Lance is here to school Keith’s ass in physics!” announces Lance, pointing a thumb proudly at his own chest.

“We brought pop-rock cupcakes!” declares Hunk with a grin, “And uh… my old notes from when I took physics last year.”

“We brought my notes, too, but as notes go… Hunk’s are objectively better,” admits Pidge.

“That’s because we can actually read Hunk’s!” says Lance.

Shiro clears his throat, “Keith’s still asleep, but you’re more than welcome to wake him. He’s in the first bedroom on the left.” He points down the hallway with a thumb, his heartbeat catching in his throat as he suddenly realizes he’s not wearing his other arm. Despite all his arm-related banter with Matt and Keith, it stings a bit to think that Keith’s friends—Keith’s crush!—might think of him as ‘Keith’s one-armed roommate.’ Or brother? Did Keith call him his brother to his friends? He pushes down his heartbeat and pulls his phone back out.

 

> _Shiro (1:31pm): Speaking of siblings, your sister just showed up at my door. Along with Keith’s crush and their other roommate. I just sent them off to my room to wake Keith up, so I’m gonna go… address that._
> 
> **Matt (1:31pm): oooooo have fun chaperoning! tell Pidge I said hi!**

Before Shiro can even tuck his phone away, he hears Keith’s voice roar from his room, “Shirooo! _Shiro_! How could you _do this_ to me!” He chuckles and jogs to his room to find Lance bouncing up and down on the bed in a cross-legged position while Hunk pokes Keith’s shoulder repeatedly. Pidge is quietly inspecting Shiro’s arm by the bedstand.

Shiro takes in the scene from his doorway before making his way over to Pidge and tapping her shoulder, “Can I… have that, please?”

“Oh! Yeah,” Pidge says, handing over his arm sheepishly, “Sorry for picking it up without asking first. Just admiring the craftsmanship.” She shoots him a cheeky smile, because they both know she’s complimenting her own craftsmanship.

“Thanks,” says Shiro quietly, setting to work attaching his arm.

“This is _your_ room, isn’t it Shiro?” asks Pidge.

“It is,” confirms Shiro, “Keith fell asleep in here last night.”

“Shiroooo,” Keith groans, now sitting upright with his mess of bedhead on full display.

“Oh, uh… did you want us to leave?” Hunk asks apologetically, glancing down at the notes he’s already started spreading across the bed, “’Cause we can totally move to the living room or something. I didn’t realize this was your room.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” says Shiro, “Keith studies in here all the time.”

“Thanks Shiro mah man!” Lance says, clicking his tongue and shooting finger guns in Shiro’s direction. The boy is still bouncing slightly, knocking Hunk’s notes askew as fast as he can set them up.

Shiro smiles, “I’m gonna make myself something to eat, does anyone else want anything? Those cupcakes look delicious, but I doubt they’ll sustain you for an entire afternoon of studying.” He’s met with a chorus of yesses and requests. “Alright, I’ll do my best,” he says before leaving for the kitchen.

“Dude, your brother’s really cool,” he hears Hunk say as he’s about halfway down the hall.

“I know,” Keith responds. Shiro’s heart swells.

\---------------

Shiro returns almost an hour later, arms full of dishes, “Alright, who ordered food?” Everyone immediately looks up from their work.

“Okay, let’s see here… ‘something cold’ for the lovely gentleman in the blue,” he hands Lance a blueberry smoothie and takes note of Keith’s blush.

“It’s January and you asked for something cold?” Keith snarks.

“And ‘something spicy’ for the world’s classiest brother,” Shiro hands Keith a plate of nachos that are at least 50% jalapeños.

“Did you want some chips with your jalapeños?” Lance teases, taking a gulp of his smoothie.

“At least my lunch is an actual lunch item!” Keith retorts.

“Pidge, you really need to come around more often because my collection of ‘Kosher and allergen free’ freezer meals is getting quite freezer burnt,” Shiro continues, handing her a freshly-microwaved pot pie.

Pidge thanks him and digs in, supplementing her meal with the remains of Keith’s energy drink from the night prior.

“And Hunk, I hear you have a taste for the gourmet, but that’s a little above my skill level. I hope frozen pizza will suffice,” Shiro concludes, handing over an entire Totino’s Party Pizza to a delighted looking Hunk.

He soaks in the chorus of thanks (and bickering) as he sits down with his own lunch: a bowl of white rice topped with an egg.

\---------------

After everyone has finished eating, Shiro opens his laptop to get some lesson planning done for work while his brother and his friends study on the bed behind him. He half-listens to their conversation as they work.

“Did you seriously fall asleep in Shiro’s bed last night?” Pidge giggles.

“It’s not that weird,” Keith says defensively, “We shared a bed for like five months after I moved in because we couldn’t afford a new bed.”

“It’s true,” Shiro confirms, “turns out after school engineering programs aren’t really a lucrative business.”

“No worries, my dude. Me and my siblings crash in each other’s beds all the time!” Lance says, his tone surprisingly reassuring.

“He also crashes in _my_ bed all the time!” Hunk adds.

“Sometimes you just need a good cuddle!” Lance declares with a wink in Keith’s direction.

Shiro doesn’t need to turn around to know that Keith is bright red and frozen in place, but he still swivels his chair a bit to ask Keith if he’s okay.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine!” Keith huffs.

“Maybe he just needs some cuddles,” suggests Pidge slyly.

“That’s a great idea!” agrees Hunk, “Let’s take a cuddle break!”

“Heck yeah!” whoops Lance, shoving his homework dramatically to the side and throwing his arms in the air.

“Wh—” Keith begins, but before he can voice his protests, he’s being scooped up to sit beside Pidge in Hunk’s lap. Moments later, Lance has flopped into Keith’s lap, his arms draped across Pidge and Hunk’s legs and his head resting back against Keith’s chest. Shiro isn’t sure his brother is still breathing.

“C’mon, Shiro, join the cuddle puddle!” invites Hunk.

“What, me?” asks Shiro.

“You’re the only Shiro in the room,” points out Pidge.

“Okay, coming in,” Shiro says, climbing onto the bed. He drapes his right arm over Hunk’s shoulders and scoots close, placing his other hand lightly on Keith’s shoulder. He leans over and whispers in his brother’s ear, “Breathe, Keith.” His tone is half-teasing, half-serious.

Keith takes a shaky breath.

Lance looks up at Keith with a grin, “You never been in a cuddle puddle before, man? Your heart’s goin’ a mile a minute up there.”

Keith stammers something incoherent, his face beet red.

“Just chill out and enjoy the snuggles, okay?” instructs Lance, closing his eyes and pressing his back against Keith’s front.

Keith takes a few more deep breaths. Finally, after his heart stabilizes, his face lights up with a tiny smirk. “Like this?” he asks in a breathy voice, gingerly draping a wrist over Lance’s shoulder.

“Nooow you’re getting the hang of it,” says Lance, reaching up to pat Keith’s hand.

 

 

**Sunday, Jan 22**

Shiro knocks softly on Keith’s door, “Hey Keith, you in there?”

“Yeah.”

“I believe I promised you a talk on Friday night,” says Shiro, “You ready to take me up on that promise?”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” Shiro can hear the rustling of his brother putting things away and standing up. A moment later, Keith appears at the door.

“D’you want me to come in?” asks Shiro.

Keith nods and leads Shiro back to his (much smaller) bed, where they take a seat side by side.

“So…” Shiro isn’t sure how to begin, but he knows Keith needs this conversation, “Unattainable goals, huh?”

He can see a faint blush appear on Keith’s cheeks, “Yeah…”

“Do they still seem unattainable?” Shiro asks.

Shiro isn’t sure how he expected Keith to respond to that question, but the sheer deer-in-the-headlights _panic_ on his brother’s face was definitely not anticipated.

“It’s just a yes or no question,” Shiro tries to reassure him.

“No! It’s not!” Keith snaps. He sounds more frightened than angry.

“How so?” asks Shiro, trying desperately to understand.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!” announces Keith, picking up a nearby bowl of moldy Easy Mac and flinging it at the opposite wall, where it shatters.

Shiro flinches. It takes him a moment to regain his bearings and shakily ask, “Keith, what do you need right now? What can I do for you?”

Keith grits his teeth, “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

“Okay, I’m gonna guess,” says Shiro, “Do you need someone to tell you it’s attainable?”

Keith grunts.

“Because this is me, telling you it’s attainable.”

Keith gives him a wary look.

“It’s attainable, Keith. Lance is attainable. I know you’re scared, but I really think you can do this. But for the love of god, you need to get your act together because you are _nosediving_ right now and it’s painful to watch.”

Silence.

Shiro reaches out and puts a cautious hand on Keith’s arm.

Without warning, Keith crumples into his lap and starts to cry. Heart wrenching, uncontrollable sobs wrack his body as Shiro gently pets his hair, smooths the back of his shirt, holds him close. He tries not to think too hard about the last time someone cried like this in his arms, because it’s hard to think about Matt wailing like Keith is now, face contorted and dripping with snot and tears. It’s hard to think about himself crying just as hard, face buried in Matt’s hair. It’s hard to think about the reasons they were crying.

It’s hard to think about, but it’s just as hard not to think about it, so eventually he just lets the memories seep in. He hopes Keith doesn’t notice as a few teardrops drip onto his head from above. He strokes vigorously at Keith’s sweaty mess of hair, trying desperately to keep them both grounded.

Eventually, a sleepy sort of calm falls over both of them. Keith doesn’t move from Shiro’s lap. He just lays there, too exhausted to move.

“You’ve got this,” whispers Shiro, brushing a strand of damp hair away from Keith’s face.

“I trust you,” Keith replies hoarsely.

Shiro’s heart fills with pride and affection and warmth as he awkwardly pulls his mostly-horizontal brother into a sloppy attempt at a hug. 


	6. February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith narrates his sophomore year of college to Shiro over questionable snacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: More cursing
> 
> Last chapter! I really enjoyed working with this AU, though, so I may play around with it more in the future.

**Saturday, Feb 4**

Keith’s face is practically glowing when he sits down beside Shiro with a ziplock bag of chocolate cookies.

“Did Hunk send you home with snacks?” asks Shiro, eyeing his brother’s cookies and trying not to look too hungry.

“Yeah, you want one?” Keith offers a cookie.

Shiro cheers internally and calmly takes the cookie, “Yes, thank you.”

“No problem,” says Keith, taking a bite of his own cookie.

Shiro takes a bite and immediately realizes two things. One, these cookies are frozen. And two, these cookies are _spicy_. He coughs in surprise, “What the _hell_ , Keith?!”

Keith snorts, “Hunk made us all custom cookies. Mine have chili powder in them.”

“That doesn’t explain why they’re frozen,” says Shiro.

“He baked them earlier in the week and saved them in the freezer,” Keith shrugs, “They taste good frozen, so I kept them that way.”

“Hm,” Shiro takes another bite and chews thoughtfully. It’s actually pretty good now that he knows what to expect.

“I can eat the rest if you don’t like it,” offers Keith.

“No, I like it,” Shiro assures him, taking another bite, “So, I take it game night went well?”

“Yeah,” Keith says with a smile that’s half smug, half shy.

“Care to elaborate?” chuckles Shiro.

“We played trivial pursuit. Pidge won. Lance and I uh…” Keith ducks his head in a futile attempt to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks, “We were joking about studying trivia together so we can kick her ass next time, but then I guess it turned into actual study plans?”

Shiro grins widely, “Is that so?”

“Y-yeah uh… so Lance is coming over on Monday to work on physics together,” Keith says.

Shiro reaches over and ruffles Keith’s hair, “Good job, kiddo.”

Keith lets himself fall sideways so his head is resting on his brother’s shoulder. He nibbles quietly at his cookie and allows Shiro to continue petting his hair. Finally, he murmurs, “None of this feels real.”

Shiro wraps his arm around his brother and squeezes him tightly, grounding him, “It’s real.”

“How can you tell?” Keith asks, his voice quiet and vulnerable.

“Because I’m watching it happen,” Shiro assures him.

Keith is quiet for a moment, then, “How do I know you’re real?”

Shiro takes a deep breath, “Take a bite of your spicy ice-cookie.”

“Hm?”

“Just trust me on this one,” Shiro instructs.

Keith does as he’s told.

“Think about how it feels in your mouth,” Shiro says gently, “Don’t think about anything else, just… eat your weird cookie.”

Keith nods and takes another bite, mulling it over in his mouth with a furrowed brow. Shiro maintains his tight grip around his brother’s torso.

Eventually, Keith finishes his cookie and squints up at Shiro, “What was that all about?”

“Do you feel any more real?” asks Shiro, loosening his grip and instead running the cool plastic of his fingertips up and down Keith’s arm.

“Uh, a little I guess?”

Shiro smiles knowingly.

Keith squints harder, “Did you just mindfulness me?”

Shiro’s smile grows into a smug grin.

“I hate you,” says Keith, laughing and playfully shoving his brother.

“Love you too, kiddo,” Shiro says, shoving back.

 

 

**Monday, Feb 6**

Shiro knows Lance is over, but he’s not prepared for what he sees when he wanders out of his room to grab some dinner. Lance and Keith are huddled together on the couch, intently focused on an array of shot-sized probiotic beverages and a loaf of white bread spread in front of them. Their homework has been shoved to the side and forgotten.

“Lance, it’s the same,” Keith insists in a tone that implies that this argument has been going on for a while.

“I’m not sure…” Lance smacks his lips contemplatively and looks down at the empty container in his hand, “I think the one from my house is sweeter.”

“It’s the same goddamn drink,” Keith argues, “How can it be sweeter if it’s the same goddamn drink?” His arm is draped over the back of the couch in such a way that it’s almost resting on Lance’s shoulder. Almost. Not quite.

It’s at this point that Shiro realizes the two boys are arguing about off-brand Yakult.

It’s also at this point that Keith and Lance realize that Shiro is watching them argue about off-brand Yakult.

“Shiro!” Lance grins, “Hey, come over here and tell us which one is sweeter.”

“Spoiler alert: It’s neither of them because they’re identical,” Keith deadpans, but the laughter in his voice is apparent.

Shiro shrugs and makes his way over to the couch, graciously accepting two shots of strawberry probiotic drink from Lance. He looks down. The containers are literally identical except that one is printed in Korean and the other in a mix of English and Spanish. The Korean one appears to be from his and Keith’s last trip to the Asian market, but the other is new. He rips the foil tops off and downs them in rapid succession before announcing, “I don’t taste any difference…”

“Nooooo!” Lance protests, “You forgot the palette cleanser! Do-over! Do-over!” He hands Shiro two more probiotic shots and a slice of bread.

“I came out here to get dinner, but at this rate my dinner’s going to be strawberry Yakult and white bread,” chuckles Shiro, biting off a mouthful of bread and peeling open the first bottle. He pours the drink in his mouth and swishes it around a bit (mostly for show, as he suspects his brother is right). He swallows and nods seriously before repeating the process.

“Soooo, what’s the verdict?” prods Lance, leaning forward eagerly.

“…they’re literally the same,” Shiro concludes, tossing his empty bottles and the rest of his bread slice in the trash.

“I told you!” Keith shouts victoriously.

“No fair, he’s your brother so he’s biased!” Lance whines.

“You’re the one who asked for his input in the first place!” Keith retorts.

Shiro shakes his head in baffled amusement, “How did this even start?”

“Pidge found these,” Lance holds up one of the English-and-Spanish containers, “while Hunk and I were shopping for rice.”

“And then he came over here and saw these in our fridge and it blew his tiny brain,” Keith continues, holding up a Korean container, “so he drove _all the way home_ to pick up his so we could compare them.”

“They’re like… the same but not the same!” Lance exclaims in wonder.

“I cannot believe I just heard that sentence come out of the guy who outscored me in calculus last semester,” Keith groans.

“So you admit you lost!” Lance declares, bumping his shoulder against Keith’s.

“Says the guy who thinks the _same goddamn beverage_ is somehow different because the packaging is printed in a different language,” Keith flashes him an unmistakably flirtatious smile.

“Well, Oreos are different in Canada!” Lance retorts, his face inches from Keith’s.

“Canada is linguistically similar to the US,” Keith says smugly.

“Nuh-uh, not in Quebec!” Lance fires back.

Shiro decides it’s time to excuse himself, “Alright, I’m gonna get some proper dinner. Have a good night, you two. Don’t forget about your homework.”

They shout quick goodbyes and homework-related promises before returning to their bickering.

As soon as he gets to the kitchen, Shiro pulls out his phone to text Matt.

> _Shiro (10:15pm): So apparently my brother’s courtship ritual involves arguing about tiny probiotic beverages._
> 
> **Matt (10:15pm): TELL. ME. EVERYTHING.**

 

 

**Friday, Feb 10**

It’s late. Shiro is exhausted from the fundraising dinner his organization just hosted, so when he sees Lance’s car outside their apartment building, he groans a little internally. He’s happy for Keith. Really. But Lance is not a quiet guest, and Shiro just wants to lay in bed with a good book until he falls asleep.

He braces himself and unlocks the door, but when he opens it he’s met with the sound of… snoring? He peers into the living room and his heart swells.

Keith and Lance are on the couch, tangled up together and sound asleep with Lance’s head resting atop Keith’s (Shiro can see a damp spot forming in Keith’s hair and has to contain a chuckle). They’re surrounded by partially completed homework and an alarming number of empty single-serve Red Hots boxes. Keith’s hand is tenderly resting on Lance’s side, just above his hip.

Shiro smiles, turns off the light for them and sneaks off to his own room.

 

 

**Sunday, Feb 12**

“Shiro, can I ask your advice?” Keith says, poking his head into his brother’s room.

“Of course you can, come sit down,” says Shiro, closing his laptop and patting Keith’s customary spot on his bed.

Keith shuffles in, revealing his latest attempt at feeding himself: a packet of dry cinnamon spice oatmeal, which he is currently eating with a plastic spoon.

“We do have bowls, you know,” says Shiro.

“This is easier,” says Keith, taking a seat and shoving a spoonful of dry oatmeal into his mouth. He dissolves into a coughing fit as he inhales cinnamon spice powder.

“We have water, too,” says Shiro, “Or milk, if you prefer.”

Keith regains his composure and rasps “easier” while gesturing at his packet of oatmeal.

Shiro shakes his head as his brother takes another bite, “So, advice. What kind of advice do you need? Obviously not advice on feeding yourself, because you never listen to that.”

Keith frantically scoops up another spoonful of oatmeal to stall, but before his spoon reaches his mouth he blurts out, “What the hell do people do for Valentine’s Day?!” (Most of his oatmeal spills onto his lap and he mutters _fuck_ under his breath.)

“Do you have a date?” Shiro asks slyly, forcing himself to momentarily ignore the oatmeal on his bed.

“M-maybe?” Keith stammers, “I guess I do.”

“You _guess_ you do?”

“I—it’s… here, read this and tell me if it’s a date,” Keith says, handing his phone over to Shiro with a text exchange pulled up.

> **Lance (2:37pm): Hey, what time do you get out of your therapy thing on Tuesday? Just wondering. For science.**
> 
> _Keith (2:37pm): 4pm. Why?_
> 
> **Lance (2:38pm): You wanna like… grab dinner on Tuesday, then?**
> 
> **Lance(2:38pm): I found a cool Vietnamese place. Spicy for you, BUBBLE TEA FOR ME!!**
> 
> **Lance(2:38pm): Perfect place for Valentine’s Day with my favorite hothead ;D**
> 
> _Keith (2:40pm): Yeah, that sounds nice. I can swing by and pick you up after I get out of group?_
> 
> **Lance(2:40pm): Cool, it’s a date! <3**

“Keith,” says Shiro, his voice as calm and level as he can manage while desperately trying to suppress laughter, “He literally said ‘it’s a date.’”

“People say that all the time!” argues Keith, blowing even more oatmeal shrapnel across the bed.

“He included a heart, Keith. He explicitly mentioned Valentine’s Day and called you his favorite. There is a _winky face_ ,” Shiro’s attempts at containing his laughter aren’t going very well.

“Yeah, but he flirts with everyone!” Keith retorts, “That’s kind of his thing!”

“And yet, out of all the people he flirts with,” Shiro says, managing to regain his composure, “You’re the one he made plans with on Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh my god,” the blood drains from Keith’s face and Shiro’s not sure he’s breathing, “Oh my god, Shiro. He asked me on a date.”

“Breathe, Keith,” Shiro reminds him.

“Holy shit, w-what do I do?” Keith stammers, taking a ragged breath in an effort to comply with Shiro’s instructions.

Shiro reaches out to rub his brother’s back, “You go on the date.”

Keith’s breathing evens out a bit with Shiro’s touch, but his voice is still frantic, “I just—Lance is so… I dunno, he eats all that mushy cliché shit up. The guy unironically uses _pick-up lines_! What if I’m no good at that kind of thing?”

Shiro smiles softly, “Why don’t you take him stargazing?”

“Holy shit,” Keith’s jaw hangs open a bit, “Holy shit, that’s perfect!? Why are you so good at this? I’ve lived with you for almost two years and I’ve never seen you go on a date. How are you good at this?”

Shiro shrugs, “You said he likes looking at the stars.”

Keith takes a deep breath and murmurs reverently, more to himself than anyone else, “I’m going on a date.”

“I’m proud of you, kiddo,” says Shiro, squeezing his brother’ shoulder, ”Now, please clean the oatmeal shrapnel off my bed.”

“Aaaagh, Shiro!” Keith groans, “Let me have my moment!”

 

 

**Wednesday, Feb 15**

Shiro knocks on Keith’s door, “Hey Keith, have a moment?”

“Yeah, come in,” Keith responds. Shiro opens the door to see Keith cross-legged on his bed with what appears to be a Pyrex storage container of refried beans in front of him and a box of taco shells to his side. He’s breaking shards off of a taco shell and dipping them in the refried beans.

Shiro takes a seat next to him and reaches out his left hand to touch the Pyrex, earning him a puzzled glare from Keith. It’s warm. “Hey, you microwaved something!” Shiro declares proudly.

“Yeah?” says Keith, taking a bite of his… deconstructed bean taco?

“Anyways,” says Shiro, “How was your date last night?”

Keith’s chewing becomes softer as his face turns pink. He swallows and tries to hide his smile, “It was… it was good.”

Shiro places a gentle hand on Keith’s back, “I’m glad.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Keith crunching at his dinner while Shiro’s hand rests on his back. It’s a comfortable kind of silence.

After a while, though, Keith speaks up with a smile, “I guess it wasn’t so unattainable after all.”

“I guess it wasn’t,” Shiro returns his smile.

“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith says, his voice breaking a bit, “For, y’know…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro warps his arms around his brother and whispers into his hair, “That’s what big brothers are for.”

**Author's Note:**

> A complete list of Depression Meals (TM) featured in this fic:  
> *Honey Nut Cheerios straight out of the box with a spoon  
> *Mochi ice cream  
> *Hot Cheetos  
> *At least 4 Zebra Cakes  
> *Canned coffee at 1am  
> *Cold, 3-day-old jalapeño and pineapple pizza  
> *Chili mangoes  
> *A 2-year-old candy cane in October  
> *Fun-size candy bars for breakfast  
> *An entire box of Fruit Gushers  
> *Cold fried rice directly out of the takeout box  
> *Thanksgiving leftovers directly from the tupperware  
> *A handful of granola and a single bite of banana  
> *Plain white rice with pickled ginger on top  
> *Canned sardines  
> *Half an energy drink  
> *Take a bite of Easy Mac, then leave it to get moldy  
> *Frozen cookies  
> *Two different brands of Yakult, with a side of white bread and arguing  
> *An alarming amount of Red Hots  
> *Dry oatmeal, directly out of the packet  
> *Taco shell shards dipped in microwaved refried beans
> 
> If you wanna come say hi, I'm [Agapostemon](https://agapostemon.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
> Also: Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Blank Space](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12367506) by [pidgeotto_gunderson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeotto_gunderson/pseuds/pidgeotto_gunderson)




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